The exciting experience on the lake soon gave way to an impromptu hiking trip through a backwoods area that was close to the Harvelle family residence. Dean, who had grown up taking walks through the woods with his family, was used to the feeling of not being entirely sure where to put his feet, and was versed in what to pick off a tree to munch on, and what was deadly. Lazily gripping a loose branch to support himself, he looked back at his little brother as he picked his way across the uneven ground. Sam was a different matter. At seven, he had not had the same experience his older brother had, and still had plenty to learn about where he could walk.

Decreasing his stride to match the slower one Sam put out, he could not help but feel enamored with the wilderness that they were in. He was used to seeing this same kind of scenery back home in Minnesota, but Nebraska felt different. The air was colder, and the wildlife seemed almost frantic to gather as much food as they could before the start of winter. Narrowly avoiding a fallen log that had been carelessly left, he tried to control the sudden ache that squeezed his heart when he thought about the start of winter. Normally, Dean enjoyed winter break and the sweet treats that came with Christmas and food, but he knew this year would likely be different.

For one thing, Caleb would be in jail. He would not be able to bicker with Jim about Thanksgiving meal prep, and would not be around to watch Dean stuff his entire body with as much apple pie as he could. Then, there was the traditional camp-out in the family room, where the boys would curl up on the sofa to watch a movie or two, and then tuck themselves in under the pillow fort Caleb and Dean would slave over. It was those small moments that meant the most, and ones Dean had taken for granted. Shaking his head, his mind refused to linger on what came directly after Christmas. His birthday. He would not allow himself to consider that Caleb would still be in jail then. He didn't think he could handle it.

Pausing to swipe some of the sweat from his eyes, he glanced behind him at Jim and Bill. They were traipsing a little ways behind, and seemed to feel confident enough to let the kids have a little bit of freedom. That was good; it gave Dean a chance to gather his fragmented thoughts the best he could while he was out in the middle of nowhere. Supposedly, there was a hunt in the middle of the woods. It was the board game murders Dean had found back home. The theories were all over the map, but another murder was supposed to have taken place.

Sam stopped beside him when he came to a rest to gather his thoughts. Not for the first time, he wished his other guardian was with him. One of his favorite things to do with Caleb, was debate what could possibly be tormenting their latest victim. Usually, their guesses were always way off, but they still made a game of it. Taking a look around, he saw nothing but the stillness of the woods that belied what was happening.

Pushing aside the gnawing heaviness he could feel in his heart, he switched his brain to the part that handled critical thinking. The body had not been located yet, but was assumed to be where the group had found itself. Leaning down to finger some crunchy leaves, he could not think of a single game that had taken place in the woods. Either that, or the monster had shaken things up a bit.

Truthfully, Dean did not want to be the one who found the body. His little brother knew more than he wanted him to, and seeing a real corpse would surely destroy every last shred of purity he still had. Stuffing his hands in his pockets when he thought of it, he stood back up and prepared to move on. The guys were chatting among themselves, and were within shouting distance.

"Is this where you hunt?" Sam was breathless as he took it in.

"Well...we hunt in different places. This one just happens to be a stereotypical location, for once."

Sam nodded seriously, downloading all this new information to his brain. "What's out here?"

"Don't know. Could be Big Foot, or it could be King Kong."

Sam considered that statement. "How do you know when you find the thing?"

There was no real answer to that question, since so many variables went into making sure that the monster had been found. "We just do." That was the closest he could come to an answer that made sense.

"What's this job?" Sam stuck close to Dean's side as they walked onward.

"Board game murders. People have died playing random games, and it's just a little creepy. So, if you know of any games that might be in the woods, feel free to speak up."

Sam was silent for a moment as he walked in step with Dean. Assuming Sam was thinking of anything that might help, Dean took the time to run his hand over the rough bark of a tree. At first look, there was nothing glaringly obvious about it, but when he took a step closer, he saw something that made his heart skitter: dried blood.

It was old, probably a few days. It was likely the blood of the person who vanished. Skimming his eyes over the rest of the tree, he did not spot any signs of sulfur to indicate demonic activity. Supposing he should be grateful for small mercies, he marked the tree for Bill and Jim to see. It was one piece of the puzzle that had to be taken into account.

"Trolls and kids," Sam murmured.

"What?" Dean turned to face his brother.

"It's a new game. Trolls and kids. The trolls are supposed to help these kids reach some magic land, but first they have to go through the woods."

"Well, that doesn't sound creepy at all." Dean tried to formulate his next question. "So what are they? Good? Evil?"

"They're good. But," Sam shuffled his feet. "Then there's the huntsman, and he wants to kill them all."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Lemme guess, there's a cabin around here, right? With a bunch of talking animals? And a wicked witch?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe? I don't know."

"That's just-"

Dean did not get a chance to finish his sentence. His foot had unwittingly walked off the edge of a large drop-off. Not having the time to right himself before he fell, Dean found himself fumbling for anything that might break the fall. A scream from above let him know that Sam had met a similar fate. He was not sure how long he fell, but when his body landed on the hard ground below the cliff, he knew he had broken ribs.

Injuries were not uncommon in hunting, but in a dire situation such as the one he was in, it could be fatal. Struggling to a sitting position, Dean could not contain the gasp that came from him when he changed position. Wrapping an arm around himself, he tried to see past the haze that was swimming in front of his eyes.

A thump from behind let him know that Sam had finally met the ground. Ignoring the pain in his side, he crawled over to where Sam was. He was curled in a heap on the ground, and his body was trembling. Visually assessing him for any obvious wounds, he could find none apart from cuts and scrapes.

Now that he was assured his brother was safe, Dean felt better focusing on the obvious issues they had landed in. They were in the middle of nowhere, and according to Sam, there might be a mad huntsman prowling the woods. Now that his vision had cleared, he could see nothing but vast wilderness before them. Miles of land stretched before them, and left Dean with no clue how they were supposed to get out.

Struggling to his feet, a low hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth when his ribs protested the movement, but he ignored it. They had to find a way out. If they could not? They would be at the mercy of a modern day magic forest.

Swiveling his eyes in every direction he could think of, he saw nothing but a miles high cliff that he had just fallen from. Running his hand over the smooth stone as though it might give way, he reached for his hunting knife, needing it to be close. Taking a second to turn away from the face of the cliff, he was met with a landscape that did not offer any clues as to how to get out.

It was tempting to panic, but he knew he could not as long as he had his brother to protect. Sam had gotten up, and stood ashen beside him. The cliff was not able to be climbed, and there was no other way around it. Turning away from it, he surveyed the land before him. It was too huge to take in in one sitting. There were too many places something could be hiding, and blind spots that could be used.

"D-Dean? W-where a-are we?" Sam stuttered, his shaking hand reaching for his brother.

"I don't know. Troll land is my guess."

It was harder getting used to the routines and rules in the jail than Caleb thought it would. Instead of being allowed to get up when he was used to, he had to abide by the protocols laid out to him in the orientation packet that had been shoved at him. Orientation. It was not too long ago that he had (patiently) listened to Sam's concerns about starting orientation for school.

That life seemed like an eternity ago. A different lifetime that did not include shackles whenever he went anywhere, and an orange suit that was a glowing neon sign for who he belonged to. The corrections system. He was no longer Caleb Rivers. He was a prisoner, who was sometimes only referred to as his prisoner number. With the never-ending torment of lockup, it was easy to buy the idea that he would be stuck in there.

Separated from Sam and Dean. Severed from the life he had once lived, and unable to watch the boys grow into the people they would be. Curling his body forward, the springs creaked under his weight, but he ignored it. Washing his hands over his face, Caleb tried to ignore the faint thud of his heart when it reminded him that his next shot at freedom was not until his prelim hearing.

It would prove whether or not the state had enough ammo to go to trial. With his luck, Caleb held no compunctions that he would be bound over for the fight of his life. Hopelessness was an easy feeling to surrender to. Especially when he was cruelly reminded that his family would end up paying the ultimate price for this evil.

In the long hours of confinement, Dawn was his only savings grace. Seeming to realize he would benefit from some human interaction, Dawn made it a point to visit whenever she could. Their talks mostly consisted of strategy, and what to expect at the upcoming hearings. It was not a pleasant conversation, but it was what was on the table.

"Hey." It was something that never got old; being led to the small room where Dawn had arranged for them to meet. It beat the glass barrier that stood between them. "Got something for me?"

In her usual stoic demeanor, Dawn merely gave him a look, and pulled out a thick binder of info they needed to go over. Before this day, most of their conversations had been centered around theoretical discussions about the worst case scenario. Now, they were about to enter into a new phase of their jailhouse talks.

"The witness statement from Lydia Sykes. I got a chance to speak with her again. She was very... cooperative."

Finding his interest definitely piqued, Caleb took his time reading through the calm statement that came from this woman. Unlike the first time she spoke with Dawn, she was even more certain she had never been around the house where the killing took place, and did not recall ever seeing someone match Caleb's physical description. It gave him a spark of hope that it would throw doubt on the rest of his case.

"She doesn't remember anything?"

If he had been any other person, he would have assumed this woman was either lying or she was crazy. With what he knew, he figured the answer was not as clean-cut. Possession was high on his list of possible causes, and what he was most curious about.

"She said the last thing she remembers is driving to her niece's house. I corroborated with the girl, and it checks out."

"But nothing about being at Lexa's house?"

Dawn shook her head. "And because this is a murder case, I've already filed a motion to strike her statement from the record. It's not reliable."

There was no way Caleb could argue with that. Staring down at his cuffed hands, he tried to think around the erratic pounding of his heart, and form a coherent sentence. If he was dealing with a demon, there would be signs that would be impossible to overlook. Unfortunately, he was in a limited position to do anything without some help.

Dawn was a remarkably composed woman, but it was almost amusing to think of how she would respond when he slammed her with his request. Taking a second, he vaguely heard the chatter of the guards, and the sound of the buzzer in the other room.

"This might sound beyond ridiculous considering what we've been discussing, but I need you to get me something, okay?"

Dawn regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "What would that be?"

"I need you to get me any surveillance photos of this girl, and also any weather reports from the area. Specifically, electrical storms, and you can also throw in cattle mutilations, too."

He braced for the impact his words would have on his cool-headed attorney. He liked her due to how unflappable she was, but in that moment, her eyes almost shot out of her face as she looked at her client. That was okay; he could work with that as long as she did not run out of the room screaming. Over the years, he had run into many a people who had accused him of being crazy. It was nothing new.

"Excuse me? Caleb, we have-"

"I know. Trust me, I do. But if you want to help me? You'll find these reports for me."

Dawn regarded him as though she was tempted to make a smooth escape, but somehow held her composure in check. "How is this supposed to help you?"

"You'll...just have to trust me."

There was no way that he felt secure enough in their relationship to spill about the supernatural. That was confidential information that only their most trusted confidantes were privy to. Staring at Dawn, he saw a million questions fly through her brain, before she gritted her teeth and nodded. Relieved he had convinced her of this one crucial thing, he was able to continue their talk on his case.

Dawn was gathering evidence, and had advised him to plead guilty to fraud. If the murder charge was thrown out, or he was acquitted, she would argue for time served. It was not ideal, but he also knew there was no way to beat something that was blatantly obvious. Now that he was back in his cell after their meeting, he had time to think and that was dangerous.

Lying down and sleeping was preferable to facing the day head-on, and so that is what he tried to do. Inhaling deeply, he attempted to blow out the negative thoughts that were zooming in his mind at breakneck speed, but it was easier said than done. He missed the boys, and he missed being able to sleep in his own bed. With the way the case was progressing, it was probable that he would be confined for the foreseeable future.

So focused was he on the inner workings of his case, that the hunter almost missed the sharp decrease in the temperature in the cell.